


Three Times Yuri Plisetsky Lost and One Time He Won

by willowbough



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Competition, Gen, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-31
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-12-09 00:22:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11657742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/willowbough/pseuds/willowbough
Summary: For the Grand Prix and World Junior Champion, defeat in the senior division is unthinkable.Until it happens. Repeatedly.A bumpy introduction to the big time for the (formerly) unbeatable Ice Tiger of Russia.First up: Hot Springs on Ice!





	1. Eye of the Tiger

_Defeat._

Yuri leaned his forehead against the cold windowpane and stared out at the darkness as the train moved through the night.

Unheard of. Unthinkable.

Undeniable.

In his mind’s eye, he saw the other Yuri—Yuuri—spinning, gliding, his every movement fluid, sinuous, seductive….

So seductive that a botched landing on a quad salchow hadn’t mattered. So seductive that no one could look away. Not even Yuri.

Or stupid Victor, whose eyes had been riveted on his precious piggy from the first step.

But however many names he called both of them in his head, Yuri couldn’t deny what he’d seen. Or the spell his rival had cast.

Defeat stung his eyes, rolled down his burning face. He closed his eyes, still visualizing the other skater’s performance. The step sequence—a talent that he’d noticed even before, when the piggy had melted down in Sochi. Skillful, compelling… and those perfectly centered spins.

His own spins still traveled in spite of his and Yakov’s efforts.

Victor’s choreography had been complex, challenging; Victor knew Yuri could land quads and had partly shaped the program to highlight his technical ability. And Yuri had welcomed that. It would give him the competitive advantage.

It hadn’t been enough.

 _Agape_. What had Victor said? It was a feeling. And Yuri had felt—thinking of Dedushka—a sudden moment of peace, as he had when standing under the waterfall. But it had slipped away as the program progressed, and he’d focused instead on the jumps.

_I landed them all. It’s not fair!_

But skating was more than just jumps, a voice in his head reminded him. Was it Yakov? Victor? Mila?

It didn’t matter whose. It silenced the other, rebellious voice that he recognized as his own.

All through Juniors, he’d reigned undefeated. What had changed?

 _Senior level_. His defeat mocked his aspiration, his boast that he would be the Grand Prix champion this season, the heir to Victor’s crown.

Whatever it took to get there… he did not have it yet.

Yuri blinked stinging eyes and sniffed fiercely, sinking down into his leopard print hoodie.

But he would find it, he told himself. He would gain it. He would train and fight for it until he could compete on the same ground, at the same level—and then, he would _crush_ them all.


	2. A Cat May Look at a King

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skate Canada...

_Redemption._

Raising his arms in triumph, Yuri beamed at the cheering crowd before making his way off the ice.

He could feel his heart pounding, the burn in his thighs and calves, but it had all been worth it.

Skate Canada, one of the first Grand Prix series events. A real competition. With real judges, not some lovesick fool. One in the eye for Victor and the piggy… he hoped they’d been watching.

Lilia greeted him with one of her rare smiles and even Yakov clapped him on the shoulder as they seated themselves in the kiss and cry.

Moments later, the scores flashed up, placing him solidly in first and his spirits soared to the ceiling.

 _Victory._ He could almost taste it. And he could see that gold medal, feel its weight around his neck. A coronation, justly earned and inevitable.

_I’m going to win. Look out, world—here comes the Ice Tiger of Russia!_

The world had other plans.

Incredulous, outraged, the silver medal glinting dully on his chest, he glowered up at the tall Canadian standing on top of the podium.

Even as he glared, JJ Leroy—hometown favorite and crowd pleaser—bit the edge of his gold medal with perfect white teeth before grinning down at him.

“Let’s climb the podium together at the Rostelecom Cup, Yuri,” he invited with a wink.

Yuri stifled a howl of fury. _At the Rostelecom Cup, I will_ destroy _you!_

_`_


	3. The King Must Die!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rostelecom Cup...

This was _not_ happening. Again.

“O, Canada” was playing, JJ was smirking from the top of the podium, and Yuri was holding _another_ silver medal.

And they were in _Russia._

Yuri wanted to scream with rage.

He’d done his country proud. He’d scored a new personal best.

It hadn’t been enough.

Once off the ice, he stomped to the dressing room, pulling on his team warm-up jacket. Scowling, he removed his skates and dropped the silver medal into the skate bag after them. He didn’t want to see it just now.

A woman’s squeal from the corridor reached his ears. It was followed by an indignant male squawk, then an amused voice Yuri recognized as Emil Nekola’s.

“Are we having a hugging competition now?” the Czech skater inquired.

Peering around the corner, Yuri spied a tangle of arms and torsos that broke apart to be Emil and… the Katsudon. 

_What the fuck . . .?_

The Japanese skater’s eyes were glassy and his face oddly blank, like a zombie movie Yuri had seen last week. Turning away from Emil, the Katsudon lurched toward a startled Seung-gil Lee, passing in the other direction, and embraced him, too. Then, stumbling further down the corridor, he wrapped JJ Leroy in another hug. 

Yuri could not suppress a hiss of revulsion—a mistake, because the sound promptly attracted the Katsudon’s attention. Leaving JJ behind, he staggered towards Yuri, arms outstretched.

“Aah! Stay away from me!” Yuri yelled, taking to his heels. Trying to lose his pursuer, he raced along the passages all around the perimeter of the floor until he was back where he started. Much to his relief, no one was following him by then.

In fact, the Katsudon was wandering off in the opposite direction, still apparently in a daze. His former competitors stared after him with expressions ranging from indulgent to bewildered. 

“What got into him?” Yuri demanded, safely concealed behind the other skaters.

“He must be… very happy,” Sara Crispino ventured after a moment.

“Or somebody hit him on the head with a skate,” Yuri scoffed, resolving to do it himself if the Katsudon made a second attempt to hug him.

“Well, who wouldn’t want to hug the king?” JJ remarked, grinning.

Silence fell.

“Let’s get a cab to go back to our hotel, Mickey,” Sara suggested to her twin. “It’s been a long night.”

Emil perked up. “May I ride with you? We’re staying at the same place.”

Seung-gil was already drifting off, still frowning bemusedly.

“I left something in my locker,” Yuri announced, and made his own escape.

****

The Ice Tiger was hunting. The piggy was not at the hotel. He didn’t know Moscow, and Victor was not there to guide him.

He liked to run, though. Somewhere on the streets between the hotel and the rink…

He found his quarry standing at a rail beside the freeway, and announced himself as usual, with a well-placed foot.

“There you are, Pork Cutlet Bowl. I’ve been looking for you. “ 

“Hey, Yurio.” The Katsudon struggled to sit up.

Yuri ignored the nickname, for once. “What was with all that hugging earlier?” he demanded. “Stop creeping me out! And your free skate was pathetic,” he added crossly.

It had been one of the longest, most frustrating four-and-a-half minutes of Yuri’s recent life: watching the compelling, mostly clean program he’d seen on the Cup of China live stream reappear as a—not quite a shambles, but a wobbling, unbalanced performance that had him muttering through clenched teeth. _Come on, stop that, stop that stop that straighten up get it together_ —to the point where even that shithead JJ had noticed and laughed at him. The relief at hearing that the ISU rules would send Katsuki to the Grand Prix final instead of Michele Crispino had not erased Yuri’s irritation.

“You get to make the excuse that you didn’t do your best because Victor wasn’t there,” he continued. “But I was in top form skating out there today and earned a new personal best, only to lose to JJ again! You have no right to be more pissed off than me, okay?”

The explosion of words… helped. Defeat still stung, but the smart seemed easier to bear when he had someone to complain to. Although the Katsudon did not really appear pissed off—at JJ or any other skater who’d finished ahead of him. More… regretful than anything else.

Yuri tossed the bag from his locker onto the other skater’s lap. “It’s for you,” he said gruffly. “It’s almost your birthday, right?”

“Huh?” The Katsudon blinked down at the bag, but opened it. “Pirozhkis!”

“Eat,” Yuri ordered.

“What, right now?” 

“Yes, now!”

The Katsudon took a bite, then his eyes lit up. “Hey, there’s rice in this! Pork and egg too. Wait, is this--?”

“ _Da_.” Somehow Yuri couldn’t hold back a grin. “My grandpa made them. Aren’t they great?”

“Yeah. _Vkusno!_ ” 

His accent was terrible, Yuri noted. But there was something almost… flattering in the Katsudon’s open appreciation of his gift. And of his grandfather’s skill.

“Here.” The Katsudon held out the bag. “You take one, too, Yurio.”

They leaned on the rail and munched in companionable silence.

“I can’t believe you hugged JJ,” Yuri complained, after a moment.

The other skater blinked. “I think I was hugging everyone. Except you.”

Yuri scowled at him. “Yeah, well. Don’t try it now, or I’ll make you regret it!”

There might have been a hint of a smile hovering around the Katsudon’s mouth. “Whatever you say.”


	4. Hear Me Roar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grand Prix Final...

_Spent._

Yuri’s body was shaking, chest and shoulders heaving with effort, even as the music stopped. He had given everything to the ice: there was nothing left to hold him up. Legs buckling, he dropped to his knees; tears were falling openly and he made no effort to hide them. Speech was impossible—his breath came in gasping sobs. Only one thought remained to him.

_Had it been enough?_

Yuri hadn’t been flawless. He had fallen on the first quad toe loop, although he’d recovered quickly. But his rival...

Katsuki had had the skate of his life. A dream performance. Every step, jump, spin, and gesture perfect, down to the last arch of his wrist. An artistry Yuri still couldn’t match. And he’d shattered Victor’s free skate record as well.

Somehow, Yuri made it to the kiss and cry, still speechless while waiting for the marks with Yakov and Lilia.

 _.12._ Twelve hundredths of a point. Still in first place.

_I… won._

It still seemed unreal, even when he was actually standing on top of the podium.

_Not what I expected._

That shithead JJ was to one side of him; Yuri scowled inwardly: it should have been Otabek. And on his other side, the Katsudon, still looking dazed. Yuri felt stunned himself, as if his victory hadn’t sunken in. 

He felt less _triumphant_ than he had expected. Almost dissatisfied. Not with the result, of course, but with his own performance. The Katsudon had won the free skate without question; Yuri had kept the gold by his margin in the short program. “Backed into it,” he would have said, if it had happened to another skater. 

He glanced at Katsuki again, frowning faintly. _Is the pork cutlet bowl going to retire?_ he had asked Victor. _That is entirely up to him_ , the other had deflected, both voice and words bland, detached. But there was nothing detached in the sudden, wordless embrace that had followed. The hug told Yuri all the things Victor wasn’t saying: he could not bear the thought of the Katsudon retiring.

Yuri’s mounting indignation at the idea followed him into his own free skate. It became a challenge, a gauntlet thrown down for the other to see. _You’re going to retire now that you’ve won gold? You don’t care anymore now that you’ve beaten Victor’s high score? That’s bull! Don’t disappoint me! If you retire now I’ll make you regret it for the rest of your life! Come and fight me again!_

The anthem was over. Yuri was last to descend the podium. Before he could speak to the Katsudon he was gone, huddled with Victor at the barrier, the two of them with eyes for no one else. Yakov beckoned him to another exit, so there was no chance to ask.

****

Between the gala skate and the banquet, Yuri’s uncertainty made him increasingly short-tempered and unsettled. It was like having a whole litter of kittens tussling inside his ribcage: fractious, squirming, _irritated_ kittens. 

_Was Katsuki retiring?_

Victor he knew about. The buzz was beginning to spread beyond the Russian contingent. But there was nothing online or anywhere else that mentioned Katsuki’s leaving the sport.

Lilia made him sit by her during the dinner. “You will behave acceptably _off_ the ice!”

Yuri wisely obeyed, but managed a furtive grin at Otabek when she was looking in another direction; the other responded with a brief flicker of eyelids. The exhilaration of their daring exhibition skate still lingered. Maybe they could perform it again at Worlds…

As dinner progressed, Yuri listened as much as possible to the various conversations around him, but still did not hear the other Yuuri’s name. And neither the Katsudon nor Victor was visible from where he was sitting.

The uncertainty continued to gnaw at him. _Staying or going, piggy? Staying or going?_

Once the plates were cleared away, he made his escape from Lilia and drifted with the other attendees from the dining hall into the reception room. Yuri kept an eye out for his two nemeses, looking for a distinctive silver head. Where one was, the other was bound to be near.

He located them soon enough, lured not just by Victor’s height and coloring, but the slight sing-song cadence of his voice.

“—give something back to Hasetsu, in exchange for everything it gave me.”

Yuri rolled his eyes. No need to guess whom he was speaking to. And there was Victor, draped over the Katsudon like a cape and probably murmuring sweet nothings in his ear. _They should call him the Russian Octopus_ , Yuri thought sourly. Though he had to concede that he’d never seen Victor look happier than at that moment.

“Yuuko, Takeshi, and the triplets would be thrilled,” the Katsudon replied. “But this would be much more ambitious than Hot Springs on Ice, Victor. Are you sure we could get everything set up by spring? There are still so many competitions left this season.”

“ _Da_ ,” Victor acknowledged. “But there are a few weeks between them, and once we’re back from Worlds—”

“Hey!” Yuri interrupted, and both heads swung towards him. Undaunted, he planted his feet and stared them down truculently. “The Pork Cutlet Bowl’s going to Worlds?”

Victor blinked at him. “Of course he is.”

“To skate, or just to hang off your arm?”

“To skate,” the Katsudon began, looking bewildered. Then, “Oh! You thought I was retiring?”

Yuri turned the full force of his glare on the Japanese skater. “That’s what everyone was saying.”

“Well, I considered it. But… I changed my mind.”

“My Yuuri will be competing in his Nationals and the Four Continents first,” Victor confirmed. “If he skates even half as well as he did here, he should have no trouble making the podium. The _top_ of the podium.”

“Victor, let’s not get carried away,” the Katsudon began.

“I’d like to carry _you_ away, _zolotse_.” Victor raised Yuuri’s hand to his lips. Their rings winked in the lamplight, and the Katsudon smiled adoringly at his coach.

Yuri scowled at them both. “Stop grossing me out! Or get a room, old man!”

“That’s already taken care of,” Victor informed him smugly, while the Katsudon blushed.

Yuri made a gagging noise and stalked off in search of Otabek whom he’d last seen being talked to by Mila. But unseen by Those Two, his mouth twitched into the faintest of smiles as a sense of growing anticipation unfurled within him. He was coming for the Katsudon’s free skate record—and he wasn’t about to make it easy for the old man either, five-time World Champion or no!

Winning the Grand Prix Final had brought him more than he’d ever imagined.

A gold medal, a world record, a new friend… and a worthy rival.

**Author's Note:**

> This story grew out of the realization that, far from taking the world by storm as a senior, Yuri actually spends most of his debut season losing. We decided that it built character.
> 
> Written in partnership with AnneAhn, whom I will add to the byline once she gets her AO3 account completely set up.


End file.
